This wasn't me It couldn't be
by Incuria
Summary: Bakrua makes a mess that Ryou won't clean up. Rated for a reason.


Note: This is a definite one shot to help me get over the writers block I've been having. Rated for blood. That's right it's humour AND horror! ALL BOW DOWN TO MY STRANGE GENRES!! BWAHAHAHA!

Warnings: Carnage, ickyness, um…kinda it. Implied boy on boy.

Disclaimer: I OWN A REALLY ADORABLE BOY! But not Yu-gi-oh

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I shivered. Why was it so drafty? I turned my head towards the window…but it wasn't there, wasn't there because I was not in my apartment. No, I was out in some _filthy_ back ally. That's when the smell hit me.

Looking down I saw it. There was a body at my feet, bleeding still. I felt my stomach lurch. I turned my horrified gaze down to my hand and the knife held tightly in it. There was blood all over it, from the gleaming blade to the metal hilt, turning it slick in my hand.

Finally I turned back to the body on the ground, if it could still be called that. It barely resembled anything that had ever once been called human, though it was too large to be some kind of horrible road kill; thick clots of blood matted in it's hair, it's torso reduced to so much steaming meat, it's face sliced beyond recognition, even it's teeth had been smashed in. Feeling something sliding down my arm I turned my attention to my own body.

My stomach clenched again in disgust; I was covered in blood, bright vermillion slashes decorating my white shirt, the ends of my hair tinted with it, my slender fingers let the knife slip from my hand as I wiped my palm on my jean-clad thigh in an attempt to rid myself of the red liquid.

This wasn't like me, this wasn't what I did. This was all wrong, I couldn't have done this. It was all just so…_messy_. My work was always much, _much_ cleaner. I didn't like a whole lot of carnage, and I had never reduced a human body to little more than a pile of flesh and cracked bones. I took a step away from the steaming pile.

No, my victims were always discharged from this world in a much cleaner fashion; deep slashes on their major arteries, bleeding them all out in minutes. And I would never leave said lump of human in some…drug dealer's ally. No, I preferred to settle them back down into a favorite chair for their loved ones to see the next day. I liked to imagine their faces when they went to shake their suddenly pale kin from an early nap only to watch them flop over, revealing the slashed wrists, neck, and were they to undress them they would find more lacerations.

I pushed the lump with the toe of my shoe. Gross. This was not my work, and therefore not my mess to clean up.

"Kura?" I called my darkness. I felt him rustle on the edges of my consciousness, but he didn't answer. "Kuuuuraaaaaa," I whined, though he still ignored me. "Bakura!" Finally he appeared as if from the shadows themselves, and stood to the right of me, semi-solid and translucent.

"What is it Ryou?" he asked absentmindedly, as if there wasn't a slowly decomposing body before us. He was my other half, my darker soul, my yami. I gestured at the fetid thing.

"Clean up your mess," I told him flatly. He rose one pearly eyebrow at me before turning his crimson eyes to the thing.

"Pardon? My mess? I am not responsible for this, you're the one covered in blood," he pointed out, his gaze sweeping up my blood covered form. I merely rolled my coffee colored eyes.

"Please, Bakura. I would never do something like this." He smirked, that evil smile that I had fallen in love with.

"Yes you did. Honestly Ryou, I tried to talk you out of it, but you were beyond yourself. Don't you remember?" he asked, laughing now. Neither of us knew it was even conceivable, I was clean, and he was…well messy. All the same he played a few images from the murder through my head, as a kind of macabre slide show. Again, I rolled my eyes.

"Then why, dear Bakura, would I do this with _your_ favorite knife?" He paused, trying to think of a comeback. When he gave up he shrugged.

"You finally admit that it's pretty?" he chuckled. It was pretty, a very pretty knife, mostly silver with gold plating on the hilt, but the weight was off for my smaller hands and weaker wrists. It was a hunting man's knife, while I preferred smaller, lighter knives, the kind used for gutting small fish.

"We've had this discussion, now please clean up you mess before the sun comes up." He pouted at me childishly.

"I don't wanna. Besides, who's going to find him?" I groaned and waved my hands at the windows around us.

"This neighborhood may be used to hearing screaming outside their window, but the smell will alert them to the problem soon, so kindly _clean it up_." We always had this argument. I didn't like the clean up when there was hardly a body left, this kind of murder would require someone to scrape his remains off of the concrete floor.

Bakura turned his back on me and crossed his arms petulantly. Fine. If he was going to play dirty then so was I.

"Kuuura," I breathed seductively. I saw his body tense for a second. Ha. Closing the distance between us I pushed my hands under his shirt, running my hands up from the small of his back to his shoulders then down to his flat, firm stomach, making sure my palms brushed his nipples on the way down. His breath came out in a shuddering gasp. "Kuura, clean this up so we can go _home_ and…" I let the sentence trail off. He spun around, catching my wrists and hoisting them above my head.

"What makes you think I can't have _that_ even if you say no?" he growled. I grinned at him, still managing to look sexy through my cockiness.

"Because if you leave me to clean this up I won't scream." He kept eye contact for another few seconds.

"Damnit! You're getting more like me every day Ryou," he lamented, dropping my wrists. Pity, it felt good. I smiled sweetly at him before stepping out of the body we shared. The body stood frozen, soulless eyes staring forward hollowly, waiting for Bakura to take it back over.

Bakura took the body and it conformed to his soul like a favorite pair of jeans. It grew a few more inches, it's cotton colored hair becoming wilder, the feminine and slightly childish eyes and cheeks became more angular, crueler, even the body became leaner, more muscled rather than simply thin. He shot me a malicious look over his shoulder and I smiled again.

He bent over and started collecting body parts, a leg here, a piece of arm there. I took the chance to watch his behind in the air. While he cleaned I could distinctly hear him muttering.

"Stupid sexy hikari…stupid bleeding corpse…stupid horny feelings…" I laughed at his grumblings before retreating to wait for him in my soul room.

Perhaps we could find someone to kill together again, that was always fun. The mixture of extreme violence and extreme art that the two of us brought to it made it more fun.

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O.O so that was kinda dark. And funny I think. Ryou was different in this one huh? I'll probably not write him like that again… Um, this was just something I wrote to get over my undead plot bunnies, they ran from me. Um, I will update Broken in the next few days I swear. Oh, and was therapist too dark of an ending? I get the feeling I scared some people off… -eyes oneshot- well this ain't helping either…

Review?


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